The Healing Process
by Sammage
Summary: *Chap. 8 finally up!* Unfortunate incidents befall Squall that leaves Seifer to pick up the pieces and heal his broken rival, but will Squall's silence be too much to bear or will they find comfort in each other's company? SxS
1. Betrayal and Release

Prologue: Betrayal and Release

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in FF8 nor do I claim to. In any sense, beware! This fic contains major Squall angst and is an ongoing one, which means it has yet to be completed! Anyhoo, I really hope you guys like this because I am really getting into the plot and psychological effects of Squall's whole . . . um, "attack". To know what happened to him, though, you'll have to continue to chapter one because this is just the prologue. Okies, enough chit-chat, onto the fic!

                The air was heavy with the stench of death. Everywhere were pools of crimson, some spreading in diameters of a few yards. It was hard to believe that all this blood came from one body. There was just so much; too much. It was the surroundings that frightened me, not the red sea forming at my feet.

                Death had come; though it was not me, the one still bleeding, that it claimed. Only a couple meters away from my own worn out body lay the woman I had trusted . . . the woman whom I had even dared to love. Even as my vision blurred with tears I knew would never fall, I could still make out the shock in the wide, lifeless brown eyes of hers.

                The room stretched on, seeming to go for eternity and was darker than my wildest and most terrible dreams. Blood was splattered and fluorescent on the black walls, glowing with the help of some demented, twisted sort of magic . . .** her magic.**

                There was another person in the room . . . the least likely of saviors. He had been my enemy once, my rival, and, some very long time ago, my lover. All had happened in the past, at least a few years back. He was strangely still, silent . . . something usually not associated with him. The generally chiseled features looked astonished, his jade eyes wide as he realized what he'd done. Short golden strands of hair had splotches of red in it where blood from his targets must've gotten. Even on his fair complexion, little specks of dried blood were situated in various spots. The long, sleek looking gray trench coat was stained with the same color of the cross swords on each of its sleeves: crimson. The color seemed to be everywhere, and I knew I must have been soaked with it.

"Squall," he murmurs my name in horror and alarm as he refuses to take his eyes off of me.

                If I had the strength to reply, I would have requested him to get me down. I couldn't blame him for just standing there, though. I must look a mess, maybe worse, and my position must look awfully painful to him. Guess it was pretty obvious that I was going to die soon. That was all right, though. I had long lost feeling in my body. My mind has even made my wounds oblivious to me, even as blood continued to flow from them. 

                She had had her lackeys string me up to a cross just over an hour ago; crucified in some sick fashion. They'd driven metal stakes through my wrists, watched and laughed as I screamed in agony. I had never felt such pain as I had then, pinned to the back of some religious symbol that had been made to fit my body, customized to make sure I felt every wave of hurt that they could possibly place me in. 

"Seifer . . ." I breathe his name as my mind swerves with nausea, one of the many black outs I've had in the past hour ready to occur. 

                This must have snapped him out of his devastated stupor for he rushes up to me, working the chains that hoisted the cross up. As it was eased down, I relished in the weight taken off my much abused arms, sinking back on to the wood behind me. He works at getting the stakes out of my wrists, cursing when they wouldn't budge. I was completely numb, immobile. At the moment, I couldn't move even if I so badly wished it. So as I slipped back into unconsciousness, I felt the world leave me.

                I awoke to the sounds of sobbing and a horrible pain wracked through my body, causing me to curl into myself as I moaned in despair. I could move. It came to me as a shock as I weakly wrapped my arms about my stomach, eyes clenched shut as I felt fresh tears spring up. That horrible scent of decease was missing and I noted that I must have been moved. There is shuffling going on around me and someone is at my side, whispering my name as they pet my hair. I was in Heaven or I was still alive. I prayed desperately that it was not the latter. I don't think I would be able to live after what had just been dealt to me. Daringly, I crack open my eyes, light flooding them which caused me to squeeze them shut again. It was such a huge contrast to that horribly dark room they'd locked me in. After a few seconds, I tried again. I was met with the most beautiful smile I had ever seen, even if the emerald hues shimmered with tears and sadness. I awoke to the blond Adonis named Seifer Almasy, which meant I was still alive.


	2. Reminiscing

Chapter 1: Reminiscing 

                Slowly, I was nursed back to health, which Dr. Kadowaki had said was a miracle considering I had to be brought back three times. She had never used that many Phoenix Downs on one man in such a short period of time, she claimed. It baffled me that I was even functioning after all that blood loss. It was a miracle, Seifer insisted on calling it. No miracle, I remember thinking bitterly, but a curse. I didn't want those memories of what they so cruelly bestowed upon me. I didn't want the recollections of men ravaging me, hurting me. . . I didn't want to dream of her lies, her brutality. But, of course, whatever god is up there believes in torturing me with nightmares of their malicious doings, the "cleansings" as Rinoa so humbly called it. The cleansings were each time she let one of her followers use me, bent me to their will, made me scream and writhe in misery. Where was the Rinoa I had fallen in love with? The woman I had trusted with my life, my soul . . . my heart? She was an illusion and everyone saw it but me. 

                I haven't cried since my first cleansing. It hurt each time, but I never let them see it, never let them take all I had left, my pride, no matter how small a shred it was. Seifer was right and I now realize the importance of having a dream. He had once explained to me that when Ultimecia had used him, the only thing that kept him living and from giving up was his dream.  His dream was to be remembered and he managed to accomplish it, despite the outcome and ridicule and the anguish he had to endure and still does when she plagues his dreams; just like Rinoa plagues mine.

                Seifer continues to stay with me, even after the months of being bed-rested and restricted from strenuous activities and movement. Mute. I haven't spoken since he found me. Everyone thinks I've gone into some state of shock, lost in my head even though I continue to acknowledge everything they say. I've just been trying to heal myself . . . mentally and emotionally. I have come to the conclusion that it was all a bad dream . . . well, most of it. Denial, it's the only way I know how to deal with this. How am I supposed to come to terms with the fact that my fiancé used her powers for evil, took my to the Centra islands, allowed her followers to have their way with me, and then finally left me to bleed to death as a sacrifice to a god I didn't even know existed? That's just the thing, I can't. I won't allow myself to believe that the one person I finally opened up to turned out to be some psychotic sorceress who started her own cult that believed that the end was at hand and they must atone for the sins of others by sacrificing the man that saved the world: me. Oh, yeah, that's a great way to maintain my sanity.

"You went off again."

                His voice snaps me out of my thoughts and I manage to lift my head to glance at him from under my bangs, which need to be cut, they're too long. I'll make plans to do it myself as soon as I'm able to walk about and perform everyday duties. With a simple nod of my head he smiles in acknowledgement, slowly continuing to peel an apple, which I assume is for me because he knows I hate the skin on them.

               These various acts of kindness and concern make me wonder. Seifer and I were never as close as we were before the second Sorceress War, even after he came back to Garden, I still was as friendly to him as I was Irvine, and that wasn't saying much. I contemplated telling him what had happened to me; how during the crucifixion they kept casting Cures on me so I wouldn't die too soon. That was the worst, I think. When the wounds tried to heal around the metal that kept me nailed down it sent excruciating pain through me, causing more black outs than the blood loss did.

                When I open my mouth to speak, he stops peeling and looks at me curiously, arching one blond brow, waiting patiently. Seifer has changed so much during the past two years back at Garden. He grew up, basically. The cocky attitude still lingered in his gestures and sometimes his words, but it was never as bad as the jerk-reflex he seemed to have when we were both cadets before the war. The golden hair was a little longer, still slicked back, a few strands often springing free to hang over his forehead. He hated it. I thought it was cute.

                Shaking my head, he frowns and goes back to peeling, but soon offers me a small smile, understanding my need to stay quiet. Seifer had once mentioned his fear and hatred of silence. He had said that when Ultimecia took control, she would make him watch everything that went on about him, but would mute everything so that he couldn't hear what she was making him say. He said that there was an exception only once. When I had been interrogated in the G-District prison, she allowed him to hear my screams. He told me that alone broke him, to see and hear me in such agony. I never realized and still have no clue as to how bad she treated him, what horrible things she made him do and watch. In a way, we were both haunted by what we thought had been the right thing; me with Rinoa, him with his dream. At least I knew I wasn't alone.

A/N: Okay . . . wow. Poor Squall, huh? Anyhoo, this is an ongoing fic. I'm not sure if I want to continue, but with the prologue and chapter one up, please tell me if I should keep going. I really like where this is headed.  So, please review your comments and tell me what you think! Thankies.


	3. Stay

Chapter 2: Stay 

            It had been sixth months since Seifer had rescued me, six long months of silence. Speech wasn't something I was ready for and I found that even though I chose to live in denial, those events still haunted me. Dreading over such thoughts though didn't appeal to me. I could no longer hide in the corner of my mind because those horrors reached out to the farthest reaches of my conscious and even my dreams. All those times I would space out to just think and be alone in my head, I never thought much about what my reaction would be if I could no longer do that. Unfortunately, now, I couldn't. Every thought eventually led up to Rinoa or what her and her followers had done to me. Lionheart even made my stomach curl with fear at times. Just to see my blade glinting in magnificence made my mind drift off to the very same metal that had been driven through me just before Seifer came to my rescue.

With a tired sigh, the plug to the bathtub was pulled up and I climbed out from my two hour soak. To be clean again . . . it was so gratifying. I must have gone a few weeks without a wash when Rinoa brought me to the Centra Islands. That awful, dirty feeling still clung to me at times and I found it hard to even look at my own reflection as I stepped in front of the mirror. My eyes rose though and I wrinkled my nose at the image that greeted me. To be honest, I looked tired, despite the months of rest they'd confined me to. Shaggy brown bangs fell before my eyes, reminding me of a shield and I took back my thoughts of getting them trimmed. It gave me something to hide behind other than an indifferent mask, which I feared would not be used again. I certainly did not want to play "Squall the victim", though.

Exhaling exaggeratedly, a towel was wrapped around my waist and I headed out to get dressed.  I nearly yelped when I saw him sitting in the arm chair that he had occupied himself in for the past several weeks. Clutching my hand to my chest after gasping in shock, I shook my head and glared at him briefly. I would need to re-go training because I was still jumpy, though in my opinion I had every right to be. Pulling my bathrobe tighter around myself, I glanced away before padding to my bed and sitting in front of him. I was thankful for the waterproof bandaging along my wrists; I don't think I'm quite ready to see the scars yet. 

                I just realized that for the first time in seven months, I was able to see my reflection in the mirror. Seifer had done a good job of taking care of me. I didn't even realize he'd kept me clean and shaven. I know he'd helped me bathe more than once or twice, but I guess he feared I'd be too unsteady with a razor to shave so he must have done it for me while I slept. He was smart to keep me away from sharp objects. . . I can barely look at my gunblade without cringing. I would thank him when I decided it was time to speak. For now, I tilted my head in curiosity as he just sat there staring at me.

"I'm glad to see you're finally up and about, Leonhart," he said evenly, reaching out to push my bangs from my face.

I flinched.

I hadn't meant to, but I did and he noticed this, pulling back immediately. Bowing my head in apology, he shrugged it off with that same old arrogant smile. It surprised me that he still put up with my silence even after my nightmares; he'd kept at my side throughout the whole half of the year. After about a month, he had had a couch installed in my dorm, claiming sleeping in a chair was damned uncomfortable. It got a small smile out of me and I think that pleased him more than anything else because his features softened before he pulled himself together.

Kadowaki had told me about his state when he brought me in. She had told me that he was a wreck, looked almost as bad as I did. Blood was all over him she said, saturated in his clothes and stained his flesh. I assume the trench coat had either been tossed out or was buried in the closet, never to be used again because I haven't seen him in it since the time he rescued me. He was either seen in Balamb or SeeD attire, or jeans and t-shirts. The missing trademark coat, though, made his new attire lose the "I'm above you" attitude I remember him having just before she'd taken me. Dr. Kadowaki said she liked him better without it, though. I think I just shrugged my shoulders at that.

When they had lost me those few times, Kadowaki said he died with me each time. When I finally awoke, I had found him in tears. Never before had I seen Seifer Almasy cry, even when the worst was upon him. He never said anything about that night . . . day, whenever it happened to be. I'm thankful for that much and more because he still stuck it out with me.

"So. . ." Seifer began, following my gaze to the window. It was sunny out. "Would you like to go out for a walk later on and then catch some lunch?"

That sounded nice and so I agreed. With his help, I dressed and combed my hair which, he had stated, had become too long. The afternoon was a nice one and I was greeted with many happy smiles from the students at Garden. Seifer had informed me that Zell and Selphie had been stationed in Trabia to help train the SeeD recruits. Quistis had visited me several times during my recovery, often reading from the _Balamb Times or talking about current events which Seifer had failed to inform me on. Cid had passed away some three months ago . . . Seifer promised to take me to his gravesite next week. My dear Matron had it placed in the field of flowers that grew out behind the orphanage which had been transformed into a bed and breakfast. I will miss him. Cid was like a father to me._

Speaking of fathers, Laguna had sought out whoever was left of Rinoa's cult members and had them executed for torture, rape, attempted murder and kidnapping; all of which had been done to me, so in the end, justice was served. During these past sixth months, Laguna has made sure I had the best of care. I was in Kadowaki's hands, so, yeah, I did have the best quality service could buy. She took care of me free of charge, though. Seifer and I were some of her oldest and definitely most frequent patients. She was just like a Nanny to both him and me. 

When we got back to my room, it was well after curfew. I had spent the day catching up with everyone. I had been informed by Quistis, who was now Headmaster since Cid's passing, that I would be exempt from all missions until she feels I'm stable enough to handle them. In other words, I still had to undergo training again because I had been stuck without any physical activity for so long. Seifer offered to be my partner, but Quistis objected saying that knowing the way we train, I would end up back in bed all over again.

Seifer helped me into my pajamas and tucked me into bed with a pat of my head and a whispered goodnight. As he headed for the door, though, I panicked. The sudden fear of being left alone pitted in my stomach and as the lights were flipped off and I was enclosed in darkness, fright over came me and I spoke.

"Please, don't go."

My words stopped him dead in his tracks and the lights were turned back on, his expression that of astonishment. Dread was clearly written across my own features and he hurriedly made his way back to me, settling down in that chair I had gotten so accustomed to seeing him in. I hated feeling so weak . . . so vulnerable. It wasn't a role I was used to being in nor was I ready to accept it. Perhaps Seifer realized this because he tentatively took my hand in his own and squeezed it reassuringly. His presence calmed the feelings that had stirred back into waking, allowing me to settle back down on my side so I could keep him in my sight. The jade eyes sparkled with understanding and I was able to fall asleep after a few minutes. When I awoke to the frequent terrors of my imagination, he was still there and I was able to overcome each nightmare because he was still with me. He had stayed.

A/N: Okies, second chapter finally up. ^^ *glares evilly at teachers* I haven't been able to write lately because of **them. *hiss* Heathens. Anyhoo, Squall spoke!!! ^^ And it was Seifer induced! Well. . .sorta. Please review if you would like this to continue and if you have any ideas, feel free to suggest what should happen next. Hate to say it, but I'm sorta stuck. Welp, please review! Ciao!**


	4. Strength

Chapter 3: Strength

Quick note: This one is a bit shorter than the others, sorry, but my muse sorta ran off on me, plus I've got graduation coming up in less than a week so everything is hectic. Anyhoo, onto the fic!!!

After the second sorceress war, Seifer had been M.I.A. for over two months before he was finally discovered. People all over the world wanted to see him hanged, beaten, and much, much worse. It took many debates as to what was to be done before Dr. Odine finally came forth to the public that the sorceress had manipulated him to do what he had and that the fault did not rest on him.

It took me awhile before I realized that, indeed, Seifer was not to be blamed for had he had done, especially after he decided to open up and tell us what really happened. He told me what had been done to him, what she made him do. Even now, two years later, he still has nightmares about what he's done, can still hear the screams his victims let out as he drove Hyperion through them mercilessly. I can relate because those chocolate brown eyes of hers still haunt my dreams. It seems like I can't get away from what Rinoa has done to me, even in my dreams. Somehow, I find that there is nothing worse than having to relive what they put me through. For once, I'm glad I don't have to face my problems alone. Seifer never leaves my side, for that I am grateful.

Tomorrow we're supposed to be going to the Centra islands to visit Edea and to see Cid's gravesite. Seifer explained that we'd be staying for a week before coming back to Garden so I could start training. Since that night two weeks ago, I have only spoken to Seifer. He's the only one I need to speak to, the only one who knows what it feels like to be used, to be betrayed by what we thought was right. He also knows the mental anguish I've had to go through day in and out. It's a maddening cycle that I feel would have left me permanently broken had it not been for his support and that of others like Quistis.

In her spare time, Quistis comes to visit. She looks older now, no longer possessing that ethereal beauty and fairness, but rather a fatigued look all around the clock. Students are constantly taking up her time and she needs to make room for the Garden benefactors when they have meetings. That commanding air she always seemed to possess is still noticeable as she walks down the halls, when she speaks and the gestures she makes while talking. She was truly meant for the position of Headmaster. 

As of yesterday, Trabia Garden is now up and running thanks to Selphie and her crew. There was a huge celebration as its gates were reopened for the first time in years.  Zell will be coming home after having spent a whole year helping Irvine and his fiancé with the construction work. The two finally decided to tie the knot. Selphie and Irvine's wedding is set to take place this summer, right before Trabia Garden starts its SeeD program. I wonder if I could ever hope to achieve the happiness they share together. 

Sis resides with our father in Esthar. She's sent me flowers on occasion and sometimes calls to see how I'm doing. Because I still can't get myself to open up to others, she gets her information from Seifer, often commenting that it was unhealthy for me to go into silence like this. Many times before, she has told him that it seemed like I was going back into my old hardened shell again, refusing to love or be loved. I don't think that's true, I'm just. . . I'm just trying to sort my thoughts out, get my act together so no one can see how they've broken me. Once I've rebuilt my mask of indifference, perhaps then I shall tell my tale, maybe I won't even tell them the horrors I've seen, possibly I'll just go about as if nothing happened, only coming to terms with the truth when I was alone or in Seifer's company.

He still relays information of the outside world to me, even though I am well enough to pick up a newspaper and read it myself. I am often told that others are worried over the fact that the World's Savior has been permanently damaged, jaded beyond repair. In time, I will prove them wrong, I will show just how well I can hide the pain I have and am still suffering. But, it is too soon now. I have yet to gather all the strength I needed to tell these lies, to put up a falsehood. Seifer will try convincing me of how unnatural it is to behave this way, but I will merely look at him and he'll understand that my story is one no one should ever hear or endure for even he still cringes as I scream in my sleep, gasp desperate pleas for it all to end. Yes, it had been that bad.

Just maybe, this will make me tougher once I have buried these events far enough into my conscious. Maybe I will be lucky enough to dismiss the scars that have blossomed along my wrists in the years to come, that I will be able to look down at my hands and not have fear pit itself in my stomach. And maybe I won't flinch each time someone reaches out to touch me; I won't dread having to hold Lionheart in my hands because images won't flash before me of the same metal that had been savagely impaled in me. Would the Fates be that kind? No, probably not. So I shouldn't think such things only to end up being disappointed. I have long learned not to expect much from others or anything at all because once you begin depending on something and it leaves you, what have you left? You have nothing. It is better to start out with nothing and go on with it, than conceive it to be something wondrous and end up disenchanted. In a way, my line of thinking is practical.

When we leave tomorrow, I will have to build some sort of barrier between the pain and my expression. I cannot and will not let Matron see me like this. It is bad enough both Seifer and Quistis have seen me this way, has seen me broken and weak, I will not let another see what has become of me. I will be strong. 

Seifer had once called me Lionhearted. But. . . am I truly as brave as he thinks me to be? Do really have enough courage to face the woman who resembles Rinoa in some many ways that I might go mad with fright? If I have him by my side, if I have his support and I have the knowledge that he will let no harm come to me a second time, then yes. Yes, I can go through with the week spent in her presence and, yes, I will overcome the fear and realization will take over that my Matron, my Edea, is not the same woman who shattered me so cruelly. And I will make it through it because. . . . Because why. . .? Because, yes, I am Lionhearted, yet only because Seifer has made me so. 

A/N: There we go! Sorry, no dialogue in this one. ^^; Maybe in the next chapter? Hee hee, anyway. . . Thank you to all those who review and enjoy this fic. It really does help and I don't think I'd be able to continue without your support. Kinda like how Squall wouldn't be able to go on without Seifer's, huh? ^^ Anyhoo, please continue to tell me what you think. Thanks! ^.^


	5. Unexpected Awareness

Chapter 4: Unexpected Awareness

"Do want sugar in your tea?"

And my gaze snaps up to the soft face of the woman across the table, her warm and inviting eyes something I hadn't expected on this trip to the old orphanage. I had been expecting Rinoa's memory to be far too great, to plague me as she did so everyday at Garden and every night in my dreams, but Edea brought about calmness in me that had not been experienced for well over a year now yet I felt saturated with it after only being here for four days. The serene atmosphere and the vast field of flowers behind the rebuilt building were oddly comforting even though I can vividly remember Rinoa and me standing in that very meadow making a promise to each other. Sometimes I have to wonder if she really meant any of it. . . if she really loved me as I had her. But then I remember what was done to me and such thoughts are pushed from my mind.

            Did it matter now? Now that she was gone, was it really important whether she loved me or not? I suppose it wasn't, but a part of me was still curious. . . another said she could rot in Hades' lair for all I care. For now, I think I'll agree with the latter. So, I was bitter. . . I had every right to be.

"Hey, earth to Squall." A pair of fingers snaps me out of my thoughts and my eyes remove themselves from our Matron as she begins spooning out sugar in my tea, courtesy of Seifer's request that had just brought me back out of my head. "You're doing it again."

With a mock glare, I merely sip the tea that is offered to me, a twinge of a smile curling my lips that are hidden behind the china cup as Seifer lets out a heartfelt laugh.

Eyes of turbulent jade lock with my own of darkened aqua and my "rival" is trying to stare me down and beat me in a glaring contest. He, of all people, should know I never lose at these things. "Don't give me that look, Leonhart."

So I merely roll my eyes and let him win just this once. It was pity, really. Perhaps not, though. . . I just wanted to look away before a soft smile curled my lips, but I'm afraid I'm already too late.

"You have a lovely smile," she says in that amazingly tranquil voice of hers. I often find it hard to believe this is the same Sorceress Edea whom I had once fought against. Then again, I often think the same thing of Seifer.

            In fact, most of my musings have been revolving around him and I haven't the slightest idea why. More often than not, I reflect on how he was just a few years ago, just how much the man had changed. Sometimes I have to wonder if we would be this close if it weren't for what had been done to me. I would like to think yes, but in all honesty, we probably wouldn't. This sudden need for him to care for me took me by surprise, but I rather liked it. It was good not having to be the one whom everyone looked to for once. Now that was Quistis' job.

            She is doing a fine job as headmaster, too. The woman is always so calm and collected that sometimes I find myself thinking: this is how Garden should have been run; you're the perfect person for the job. And she is. 

            Without knowing it, a conversation has already begun around me between Seifer and Matron. They're discussing the plans to construct this orphanage into a bed and breakfast or a safe way for SeeDs. I think it's a splendid idea, but when asked my opinion I only offer a tiny smile and approving nod.

            Seifer scowls at my silence and reaches over to ruffle my hair. I've gotten past pulling away or flinching. For that, I think he is proud. I'm able to receive comforting hugs and friendly pats without cringing or looking away in shame. What had happened to me wasn't my fault, I acknowledge that much. So as his large hands tousle rust colored strands into my face I merely grin and huff, watching the locks of hair moving away with the sudden pant of breath. 

Edea catches our antics and smiles wistfully, her dark eyes looking out towards the field of beautifully in bloom plant life. "Cid would have loved to see you two getting along so well."

            I watch in my muted state as Seifer nods some to this comment before his glance is cast in the same direction as Matron's.

            Since they're both preoccupied I take this time to study the elderly woman who still appeared to be in her early thirties. So fragile looking she was, with her slim features and long black hair. And those eyes. . .they seemed to distant, so lonely as she stared out into the vast land beyond the plated glass that separated us from the wildlife out beyond. Do my eyes look like that? Do they have that same forlorn look to them? I would imagine so at times. She must be so lonesome now that Cid had passed on.

            She had done a remarkable job with the place so far. The orphanage was rebuilt into a two story stone building with three rooms on the top floor along with two bathrooms. The lower level had been constructed with a larger kitchen, a small dining area, and a lounging room. Edea had commented that Seifer had helped draw out the designs. I never knew he was gifted in architect. Well, I also didn't know he could be so caring at times until just these last few months.

            My mind lingered to the vague memories I had of this place as a child, most none too happy, but there were a couple that had a cheerful air to them and usually brought about a miniscule smile.

_"Matron!__ Seifer took my chocobo plushie again!" Zell cried out as he sniffled with an onslaught of tears._

_The stuffed bird was promptly shoved back into the younger blond's arms, the older once scowling as best as a six year old could. "You're such a cry baby, Zell."_

_"'Least I'm not in wuv wit' Squall~!!!"_

            This memory is cut short. It's a new one because I don't recall having heard the last comment before and it stuns me. Yet as much as I rack my brain for this incident, I cannot complete what else was said that my mind seemed to have long lost. But these were the words of an immature five year old. An immature child by the name of Zell Dincht so that pretty much took care of that. Still, it left a smile upon my lips as I joined the other two in staring out into the field of flowers.

_"I'll be here."_

_"Why?"_

_"I'll be waiting here. . ."_

_"For what?"___

            And this time the memory does not bother me. . .

_"I'll be waiting for you so. . . if you come here. . . you'll find me."_

            Because I'm not thinking about her. . . I'm thinking about him.

_"I promise."_

_            Seifer Almasy._

A/N: Finally! x_x I never thought I'd get this chapter up because I have just been constantly busy all summer. I'm sorry if I kept any of you waiting on this chapter. Please, continue to review and I'm open for any suggestions for the plot. Thank you so much. Remember: The reader makes the writer by fueling his muse.


	6. No Need for Fear

Chapter 5: No Need for Fear

            It was a glorious day at Trabia Garden, mirth and happiness radiating from within its walls and the air everyone breathed. This joyous occasion marked Selphie and Irvine's wedding day; they were finally bonded in both spirit and heart. But then, I always believed one did not need a ring or a fancy celebration to be either of the two, those special bonds already existed between them, but the wedding was merely for show, to say: "Yes, we are united forever. I would have no one else at my side". It must be nice to feel so loved. . .so welcome to an embrace and know that this person would stand beside you until death or worse. 

            Was I envious? I guess so, though as I stood there alongside Zell and Seifer while the couple locked lips to seal their Holy Matrimony, the only thing I could think of was how happy I was for them. I don't think I've been this. . .at peace in ages. People should invite me to their wedding more often.   

            The celebration lasts well into late afternoon before the bride and groom take off down the street in their grand limousine which would cart them off to Deling where they plan on spending their honeymoon. Matron, Ellone, my father, and so many others had all been guests to this pleasant event, each one of them so happy for the newly weds. After awhile, people began to flock back to their homes or hotels where they would reside for the remainder of the summer weekend. Fatigue is wearing on me as my smile begins to fall and I'm pleased to say I actually spoke today. Not much, but I indulged in very light conversation since it did me good to see Irvine, Selphie and the others all together again, each one of them so blissfully happy with their lives.

            Did I mention I was envious?

            Although, I don't think I have any right to be. After all, Seifer had selflessly given up his time for me for more than a year. I should feel honored. And I guess I did. No one I know has seen Seifer in his strongest days and his weakest as I have. But when he has his low points, do I really come through for him as he does me? Such thoughts make me feel as if I'm a burden to him, so as we begin to say our farewells to the remainder of the guests, sure to give Edea a kiss on the cheek and our love before we too fled the scene and retired to the dorms we'd been provided for the duration of our stay here at Trabia Garden, I state quietly that Seifer didn't have to stay with me if he didn't want to.

            Just his reaction makes me want to take back the remark and he scowls before playfully pushing his bare fingers through my shaggy hair. 

"So I can hang 'round with more annoying people? No thank you. You're not an obligation, Leonhart," he says all too cheerfully, as if he were hiding something else, which sparked my curiosity. "And you, of all people, should know that if I didn't want to stay with you, I would have packed my bags awhile ago."

"So why do you stay?" It was reasonable question, I figured while beginning to undo my tie. The blasted thing gave me more trouble than I wanted and as he stepped up to finish unknotting it for me, I gladly accepted his help.

"Because I can," Seifer murmurs, while unfastening the navy blue material from around the collar of my dress shirt.

The answer doesn't meet to my satisfaction and I only grunt a response. He seems equally unpleased, but his fingers remain a touch longer than necessary along the base of my throat, the simple touch causing me skin to shiver as goose bumps trailed my arms and made the hairs at the back of my neck stand on end. I wonder if he knows just how he makes me feel at times.

"Because," he starts off again, helping me out of my jacket and folding it carefully on the armchair that stood no more than a few feet from us. His answer does not come for awhile and I just about give up, beginning to undo the buttons to my shirt before his hands catch one of mine in his own. Astonished, my eyes rise to meet his, warmth radiating from usually chaotic hues of turbulent jade before Seifer leans forward, catches my lips with his own in a kiss that brought horrid memories to my mind only to be drowned out as he wraps his arms around me in an embrace.

It was a feeling that stopped every motion dead, everything but the sensation itself as velvety lips meshed with mine in a soft, yearning kiss that deepened to match our heightened desires. No words needed to be spoken; we went on without them for months and did not need them now. Our eyes. . . our hearts spoke for us and when I lain upon that soft mattress below and those deft fingers began to undo my shirt, dread pit in my stomach, even though I knew this was Seifer, that I was safe within his arms, it still brought about unwelcome recollections that had me suddenly clinging to him for dear life. Did he realize just how hard this was for me? He must of. Why else would he stop what he was doing to simply hold me, whisper assuring words into my ear as he caught me in a loving hold? And I felt safe. 

A/N: ^_^ I have room for a lemon which I'll be writing soon. I am **so** sorry for the delay of this chapter and I certainly hope it meets your expectations. Thank you all for the reviews. I'll be posting a nice little SxS scene soon along with another chapter. Expect it before the end of this month. ^_^ Again, thanks. Your reviews drive me to complete this fic.


	7. Perspective Change

Perspective Change: The unofficial chapter six to The Healing Process

Disclaimer: We all know who the respective owners of FF8 are Square, but this idea was suggested by "sarah85". x_x Hope I did a decent job.

There's been an ever present need within me to fix that which has been broken. Where the urge came from, I'll never know. Whether it was an impulse triggered from the no-nothing childhood I had or some dream buried under all those which had failed before it, I do not know, but the feeling still nags at me whenever I find some poor misshapen cabinet which needs painting or some other random object lying around my dorm which needs to be attended to. I did indeed have the perfect heart for a knight. So, this certainly explains what drew me to Leonhart when the world had collapsed around him, right? No. On the contrary, I was drawn to my rival because since the day Squall came to Garden and proved himself to have an equal combat prowess as me, my heart having set itself a new goal: Together, he and I would accomplish greatness. We would go to the top and we'd do it side by side. These intentions had all been fine and well, until he decided he'd rather be a stubborn little bastard and hide within the confines of an indifferent shell. Being the rather hot headed teenager I was, I reacted in. . .well, not the best of ways.

So we came to "hate" each other. Hate is too strong of a word and I suppose I don't use this whole heartedly, but there was a lingering bitterness between us which didn't seem to vanish until after the Second Sorceress War. Our petty arguments and spontaneous spars were spawned from the stupidest of things: a playful shove misinterpreted, a glare or scornful word. All of the following led to us clashing blade to blade, heightening our levels of combat skill while our rage drove us to become better than the other. After awhile, I no longer had the desire to bring Squall with me to the top, but rather wanted to reach it before him so I could shove it into his face simply to let him know that I was better. 

A trip to Balamb changed my new view, though. It had been late October, the weather was the same as it is now; frigid and brisk with soft winds of the seasons change, a warning from autumn letting the world know that winter was soon at hand. Squall was up to his old tricks, ignoring everyone and being that antisocial prick he was back then. The moment was just right and this is why I've never forgotten it. A gust had just past, leaving the students to be assaulted by the dry leaves of gold and red it had picked up, the foliage fluttering around them like a swirl of Christmas trimming. My vision had been directed in the direction of Leonhart, his sudden and awkward cry drawing my attention to him. It was the most beautiful image I had ever seen. You know the color of freshly brewed coffee being poured into a porcelain mug, steam emitting from its depths while that delicious scent wafts to your nostrils? That's what Squall's hair reminded me of as it was pushed away from his marble features, whipped around almost wildly by the wind. And those eyes. . . the sudden look of astonishment and anger mingled within the aqua orbs, emitting an almost ethereal glow as that perfect mouth of his parted in the shape of an "o". Do you know why they call him Squall. . .? I do. A sea of emotions can flood over him so quickly and then calm before they can return in waves once more. It is certainly a sight to see. 

The image of him standing there, looking rather frustrated while the wind pushed its icy fingers through his hair and clothing, imprinted itself in my memory and it wasn't until days later did I realize it when I found myself tormenting him once more only to look upon the windows to that complicated soul and find an insult hanging off the tip of my tongue yet never falling from my lips as I simply stared. I would make it to the top for Squall and I would drag him with me, kicking and screaming if that's how it had to be, only to show him that, in the end, I did it for the "us" that could have been yet never was.

Well, I didn't ever make it to the top, never got to bring him with me for the ride since he caught another bus which led our paths astray. Yet. . . despite these set backs, I find myself lying awake with the lion sleeping so peacefully within my arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And perhaps it is. Here, I do not have to be perfect. Here, my flaws are made into virtues. In our eyes, we are the image of a relationship others only wish they could achieve. In all sense of the word, together we are anything and everything we want to and can be. 

If I were to have said to someone, "I'm in love with Squall Leonhart" last year before I found him on that cross, it would have been a lie. I knew not the meaning of true love or companionship, these were fairy tales which I had long believed were made to lead the human heart on a quest for that which does not exist. Something happens to you when you suddenly find yourself holding the dying body of the one person who has been the only constant presence in your life. A trigger is set off in your mind while you frantically try to rush him to help, hastily breathing Curagas as if it would keep him alive for just a moment longer in order to save the life which you suddenly find so precious. There is a pulse that makes your heart beat with a new vigor when it finally occurs to you just why you're so desperate to help the man lying in a bloody mess within your arms and you realize that the love you had thought to not exist was real. . . and the world takes a sudden dip when you find out that the body you're clinging to has failed to move while going drastically cold.

Love is suddenly given a name. It's dubbed Squall Leonhart as those lips suck in a ragged gasp of breath, still holding on to the fragment of life that should be far gone by now. Fate was kind enough to give a second chance, which shall not be wasted.

I know I certainly made the best of what was given to me. If I hadn't, Squall might not be lying within this tight embrace we've locked around each other. I won't go all sappy and say that miracles come true, because I believe that destiny can only be steered with one's own hands along with a gentle guide from Lady Luck and Monsieur Fate. I made my own life what it is now and it wouldn't be anything to be proud of if I didn't have Leonhart by my side.

That original dream I had can still be accomplished. We already have each other and the mountain of greatness isn't as high with an extra pair of hands to help climb the way up.

Even the Great Seifer Almasy needs a bit of help now and then.

A/N: Cliché. . .just a bit. Sappy and. . .yeah. -_-; Okay. No more Seifer POVs for me. Still, tell me what you like?


	8. Awakening

Chapter Seven: Awakening

A/N: Oh my gods. I'm **so** sorry I haven't updated this fic in so~ long. Like always, school has taken over my life. I promise, **promise to have another chapter up by the middle of April, the latest. Thank you to all those who posted their comments and have been patient enough to wait for this chapter. Sorry I kept you waiting.**

The peace which I had found myself adjusting to was a nice change from the hectic and pitiful existence I had once been. Things were smoother now that Seifer was at my side and things came a lot easier to me. Like picking up my gunblade for example. Lionheart's weight is still foreign to me, my fingers having missed the feeling of solid metal in its grasp for quite some time. I do not fret though for I know, in time, things will come to me as naturally as they did just last year.

Quistis has inducted me into training for a few months and she is more than happy to see I'm back on my feet. I must say, I'm inclined to agree. It's been forever and a day since I've been able to spar. The adrenaline rush pushes me to new heights which have long been absent from my system. . . and for far too long. I find that the heat of battle brings about that carnal urge within every human, pushing it to the surface where it rears its ugly head with a vicious ferocity while blades clash together in a beautiful dance of flashing sparks and metallic clangs. You can create thunder with the simple block of two weapons against each other. It's a magic all its own. 

Of course, I've had my moments where my mind would take off. It does that now and then as it used to before the war. Usually, when I drifted off in my thoughts while in the midst of battle, it was only because I was going over fighting strategies. Now. . .  now when I see a blade coming at me, my pause is often due to the fact that something in my memory triggers the violent events that had been bestowed upon me while in Rinoa's clutches. This lasts only fragments of a second, but they're enough to throw me off guard and my sparring partner is often only millimeters away from slicing me open by the time he gets his weapon to stop. I'm lucky to still be in one piece after over a month in training.

Seifer has often offered his services in the Training Center, always ready to join me in a quick spar. I've yet to accept his proposal. When I fight him, I want it to be how it used to. . . Well, without the nasty remarks and snide insults. They heightened the effect, yes, but the real reason behind our battles that made them pulsate with life and greatness was the will that we both had. Neither of us would ever give up in a duel. Our bouts would carry on until we could no longer stand. We drove each other to such lengths because we were both so determined to beat the other. I want it to be like that. As of the moment. . . I'm sure he would have no trouble beating me with one hand tied behind his back. My strength is not what it used to be.

As far as. . . "we" are concerned. Seifer and I have kept our relationship secret, though it is rather difficult when his wandering hands find themselves upon me in the halls of Garden. Our affections are shown only behind the closed doors of our dorms when night has driven away the sun and darkness envelopes us into a world which I no longer fear to enter.

Pleasure is something I have been neglected of until just a few weeks ago. It's hard to desire it after what I went through, though. Seifer. . . somehow, he guided me into feeling again. No more numbness and lifeless existences. There was passion in what we did, what he did to me. There was no intentional pain. I never considered "gentle" to be one of Seifer's qualities considering, I've never seen him handle anything with a delicacy. Anything fragile was handled in the same rough sort of way he went about things. But, when he touches me, the caresses are soothing, slow, and tender. It makes me feel special, knowing that I'm probably the only thing to receive this sort of care from him.

Now that winter has come upon us and darkness falls at a much earlier hour, it is indeed nice to have that warm body beside my own; a reassuring presence that has led me on my path to healing the scars which I thought would have long since destroyed me. 

I fear the dark. I realize this now because every time I crawl into bed, I worry that when the lights go out and slumber washes over me that I shall awaken to the abyss that had swallowed me for a whole week. That I should wake up to her malicious gaze full of predatory hunger. 

It hasn't happened yet and I pray it never will, though the body spooned up behind my own gives me more reassurance than words ever could. 


	9. Rekindled Fear

In the blurry haze of bliss, one often tends to forget or block out the things that nightmares are made of, things which needed to be forgotten but it was almost as if these things just refused to go away, unaided until something spectacular happens to make one overlook things which used to make life miserable. Sometimes though, past mistakes shouldn't be left in the dark and little skeletons will often jump out of one's closet and choose to revel themselves in the most horrifying ways. 

Chapter Eight: Rekindled Fear

Christmas is just over the horizon and the Garden is bustling with good cheer as the students head out to visit families for the winter break. I never did like Christmas. It was a holiday which never held meaning for me, never quite sparked my spirit or stirred joy into my heart. For as long as I could remember, Christmas eve and morning was always spent alone, even though Cid insisted on hosting a grand feast for those students like myself who didn't have a home to leave for. My family was here at Garden, even if I couldn't see that. Seifer never much cared for the winter festivities either and if I can remember correctly, the last Christmas before the Second Sorceress War was one without any sort of glee. Both of us were miserably irritable as the snow fell around the school and the younger cadets played tag in the hallways. We kept to ourselves, Seifer's posse having left him for the first time in years. Neither of us spoke to the each other, in fact, I don't think I remember Seifer saying anything to me until Christmas morning where various gifts had been exchanged between the students. I myself got the most unexpected one of them all. 

It didn't take long for Seifer to challenge me to a routine duel, boredom settling inside of both of us now that there were no longer classes to keep us occupied. We met in the training center, our usual spot which secluded us from the rest of the world, shrouded in trees and other foliage. It was the one place where we were allowed to let loose and vent all our frustration and anger out on each other without being interrupted by rules or monsters. Even now, my mind frazzled by the scars of my old GFs, I cannot remember how it happened, but we managed to give each other our first set of matching scars aside from the ones on our faces. We'd been lost in a violent dance of sweeping blades, magic spells and swift blows from the hilt of our weapons. By the time it'd ended, we each had a gunblade stuck through each other. I remember being the one to go first, to actually slip from life's cliff and fall towards the abyss of death as my blade was removed from within the cavities of Seifer's stomach where his own blade had impaled me. And I fell. Oh gods, did I fall so far and so fast, not even realizing it until Seifer fell with me. 

For the first time, I experienced death, wrapped within its horror and icy grip. I don't know who it was that found us and even how long it was that we lay there, two fallen duelists wrapped around each other like a pair of lovers blanketed by a crimson wave, but I do know that when that first Phoenix Down was used on me, I never felt so alone as I did in death and when oxygen hit my lungs once more, it was in a panicked gulp of air nearly choked upon as I sat up in a terrified state. 

Perhaps it's unwise to recall such gruesome events; I know it certainly isn't the smartest thing to do when I'm required to spar with him soon, but. . . it bothers me. In a way, it actually frightens me that we might make the same mistakes only Seifer won't come out alive in the end. I've trained for a solid two months now and Lionheart can actually be used to its full potential, but there are times. . .times when my mind won't focus, when I'll let my guard slip and for the love of Hyne, I can't seem to make this awful--- this fatal little thought go away, the ever present question during battle "what if" continually ruining my soldier's instinct. 

Gods, what if I make a mistake that could ruin our lives?

The path towards the Training Center seems longer now, my weapon's weight more massive, seeming to drag me down, slow my pace, or is that just an excuse for the stiff movements I seem to be making? He's already there, bright eyed with that smirk full across his lips as he greets me with a silent nod of recognition, quietly commenting on that fact that I was late. When we step in pass those thick metal doors, something buries itself in my stomach, plants that awful seed of apprehension that coils and twists around me. One more time does he ask if I'm ready and with a firm nod we find ourselves that little spot we've claimed as our own more than six years ago. The stances we take resemble those which I can recall from our last duel which ended quite dreadfully on Seifer's part as my team dispatched of him, or rather. . .the GF did. 

There's a rustle of leaves beneath steel toed boots and without warning, Seifer rushes me, Hyperion swung towards my head and without hesitance, I duck and make a quick slash for his legs which he narrowly steps back from. The battles starts and already the adrenaline is pumping and deafening my ears. The chill of winter does not evade us, not now when we're already baking beneath our clothes, muscles flexing and contracting to keep us going. Our beautiful tango of flashing blades has begun, our music the sound of ringing clashes of steel, and our rhythm created by pure instinct.

It's all so familiar.

Lunge. Thrust. Parry. Retreat.

Extend. Slash. Block. Retreat.

My mind focuses itself on the weapon swung at me, the sound of it whizzing past my ear, noting how close and dangerous this duel was becoming and despite my growing fear, I couldn't help but be entranced as I used to when we fought. All too quickly, the battle is over as Hyperion's tip rests mere inches from my throat and with a rise of my chin, I accept the defeat which has fallen upon me. Relief floods itself through my system as my heartbeat begins to slow. I did it. We both survived and made through this bout with no more than a few cuts and some light bruising. 

I would be allowed into SeeD once more.

Author's Note: With exams coming left and right I never got a chance to update this chapter, not to mention I was grounded from the computer for awhile. My apologies to all who have been so patiently waiting for this chapter, I am truly sorry to have kept you waiting.


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